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New York Gave Latino Cannabis Entrepreneurs A Head Start—But Can They Keep It?
The Happy Munkey team: John Ibonnet, Ramón Reyes, Vladimir Bautista and Omar Ibonnet (L-R).
Some call New York the most inclusive cannabis market in America for Latino entrepreneurs. But behind the licenses and headlines, the reality is more complex.
New York legalized adult-use cannabis in 2021 with a bold proposition: put the people harmed by prohibition at the center of legalization. Prioritize justice-involved entrepreneurs. Make equity a target with teeth, not a tagline. For many Latino operators, that ambition translated into reality.
In neighborhoods like Astoria, Dyckman and Bed-Stuy, Latino-owned dispensaries are now open for business. Entrepreneurs with lived experience—formerly incarcerated, legacy veterans, community builders—are staking their claim in the regulated market. Sometimes in the same zip codes where the plant once got them arrested.
But is New York really the most inclusive cannabis market in the country? And what does inclusion mean once the confetti settles and the leases are signed?
To find out, I spoke with Latino cannabis entrepreneurs from across the city. Most received Conditional Adult-Use Retail Dispensary (CAURD) licenses. Their reflections reveal a nuanced picture: the blueprint is solid, but execution remains fraught.
Latina Entrepreneurs Still Face Higher Barriers
While several Latino-owned dispensaries have opened across the city, Latina ownership remains far less visible.
Mama Verde, co-founded by Christina Arez and Krystel Bloomfield, was awarded a CAURD license but has yet to open. Other efforts, like the dispensary licensed to Fernando Peña and Suzanne Furboter, have also faced delays. The scarcity of Latina-operated stores underscores the deeper challenges around capital, stigma and access still facing women of color in the industry.
Still, a few Latina entrepreneurs are actively shaping New York's cannabis and accessories market. Elyssa Colon, a Puerto Rican Bronx native and co-founder of HighGarden NYC, blends hospitality and community leadership to create inclusive, women-led cannabis events and services. Kristina Lopez Adduci, founder of House of Puff, leads a Latina-owned brand focused on art-inspired accessories, bilingual education and stigma reduction, reimagining the cannabis experience for women and Latinos alike.
'We're not just running businesses,' said Miguel Brito, founder of The 1 Brand, in an exclusive interview. 'We're rewriting the narrative.'
New York's Equity Promise
When the Marijuana Regulation and Taxation Act (MRTA) passed in 2021, it set a new tone. The law set a goal for 50% of adult-use cannabis licenses to go to social and economic equity applicants, including people from communities disproportionately impacted by cannabis enforcement, minority- and women-owned businesses, distressed farmers and service-disabled veterans.
Soon after, the Office of Cannabis Management rolled out the Conditional Adult-Use Retail Dispensary program. CAURD prioritized New Yorkers impacted by cannabis-related convictions, making them the first allowed to open licensed dispensaries.
By the end of 2024, state data showed 315 provisional CAURD licenses had been issued. Over half went to individuals from Black and Latino communities.
But equity in licensing doesn't always translate to representation across the industry. The same report noted that just 15% of workers in New York's cannabis supply chain identified as Hispanic or Latino, compared to 18% of the state's overall workforce.
'New York made equity a priority,' Brito said. 'But real inclusion means more than licenses.'
The Legacy That Helped Shape New York's Equity Push
Any conversation about Latino leadership in New York's cannabis market would be incomplete without Happy Munkey, the brand co-founded by Vladimir Bautista, from Harlem, and Ramon Reyes, from Washington Heights. Long before CAURD licenses existed, Happy Munkey was a movement. Part underground lounge, part media collective, part cultural catalyst.
Happy Munkey co-founder Vladimir Bautista with U.S. Representative Adriano Espaillat — the first ... More Dominican American and first formerly undocumented immigrant elected to Congress, and current Chair of the Congressional Hispanic Caucus.
As Bautista put it: 'In New York, Latinos are succeeding. We're owners of our own future. We're raising the Latino flag high and proud.'
The pair built a cannabis lifestyle brand that celebrated the plant openly while pushing for its legalization. Through podcasts, videos and public events, Happy Munkey became a beacon for the city's legacy cannabis community. In 2024, they opened licensed dispensaries in both Dyckman and downtown Brooklyn, transforming years of grassroots organizing into fully legal retail operations.
Happy Munkey Dispensary
Happy Munkey's influence helped lay the foundation for the equity push that followed. Bautista and Reyes were among the first to prove that legacy-to-legal transitions were not only possible but essential to meaningful reform. In 2024, they were named to Forbes' Cannabis 4:20 list, joining other trailblazers reshaping the industry from its foundations.
On The Ground: Latino Entrepreneurs Building Against The Odds
Across the five boroughs, Latino cannabis operators are shaping the market in real time.
Jeremy Rivera, a Puerto Rican entrepreneur and former justice-involved individual, co-founded Terp Bros in Astoria. Raised in Bushwick, Brooklyn, Rivera experienced incarceration for non-violent drug offenses. He now leads the Cannabis Retail Alliance of New York (CRANY) and advocates for equity across the state.
'I grew up in a system that criminalized people who looked like me for the very same plant I now legally sell,' he said. 'Opening my doors, in my neighborhood, as a licensed owner—that's powerful.'
Rivera was among the first to open under CAURD. He believes the program created opportunity, but the path remains steep.
'The state gave people like me a real shot,' he said. 'But Section 280E taxes [the federal rule that blocks cannabis businesses from deducting standard expenses] plus stigma in our own communities and the lack of funding make survival tough.'
Miguel Brito, a Dominican-American entrepreneur and founder of The 1 Brand, blends legacy experience with modern innovation. He built his career across cultivation, processing and compliance, and developed DabGo, a portable dab rig. He now operates in both New York and New Jersey.
'Equity isn't about getting mentioned in press releases,' Brito said. 'It's about staying open.'
Alexander Norman, who spent years operating an unlicensed cannabis delivery service in New York, co-founded Budega NYC in Brooklyn. A Cuban-American entrepreneur, Norman transitioned from the legacy market into licensed retail through the CAURD program.
'New York has more Latino licensees than any other adult-use state,' he said. 'But without capital and solid business support, many of us could still get pushed out.'
'Personally, it's validated my legacy experience and pursuit,' Norman added. 'Professionally, I don't think I've proven much yet—other than that I can open a licensed dispensary. The jury's still out on whether it will succeed.'
Louis W. Colón III, a Puerto Rican entrepreneur with a deep background in fashion and branding, co-founded Budega NYC. He previously held senior roles at FILA, Footlocker and Extra Butter, and now applies his design ethos to creating a dispensary experience rooted in Latino culture and pride.
Budega NYC co-founders Alexander Norman & Louis W. Colón III
'It means the world to build something our people connect to,' he said. 'When someone walks into Budega and sees themselves reflected, it matters.'
Other Latino-led cannabis businesses, such as Glenna & Co, Polanco Brothers and Con Bud, are also helping shape New York's evolving dispensary scene, adding to the momentum sparked by early equity pioneers.
'Giving the next generation an example of what work, creativity, respect, opportunity and community can build—that's what drives us,' Colón added.
What Other States Tried—And Why New York Stands Out
While New York's rollout had flaws, many operators say it still leads the country in Latino inclusion.
Massachusetts saw modest progress. According to Rivera, roughly 15% of its social equity program participants are Latino. But access to capital and zoning headaches persist.
In California, despite having the nation's largest Latino population, representation in cannabis remains minimal.
'There are advocacy groups and some local programs,' Brito said. 'But actual support—funding, mentorship, ownership—is still lacking.'
New Jersey and Illinois built equity into their laws, but results have been inconsistent. Delays, legal challenges and unclear implementation have kept many out.
'Some states made good promises,' Brito said. 'New York actually started handing over keys.'
'Real inclusion requires more than good intentions,' Brito added. 'It needs funding, mentorship and accountability.'
Where The System Still Breaks
All the entrepreneurs interviewed pointed to a common truth: getting a license was just the beginning.
Budega NYC
Capital remains the biggest hurdle. Many CAURD operators entered the market without private investors or traditional banking relationships.
'We self-funded Budega,' Colón said. 'If more public programs helped cover buildouts or rent, fewer people would end up in bad loan deals.'
Then there's Section 280E, the federal tax law that prohibits cannabis businesses from deducting ordinary expenses.
'For Latino entrepreneurs, especially those without cash reserves, 280E is a killer,' Rivera said. 'You're taxed on revenue, not profit.'
Regulatory confusion only adds to the pressure. The compliance burden, zoning restrictions and shifting rules stretch already thin resources.
Cristina Aranguiz
Cristina Aranguiz, a Cuban-American cannabis operator who built a multi-state business without outside capital, echoed that sentiment. 'Licensing fees and start-up costs in cannabis can easily run into the hundreds of thousands or millions, and undercapitalized entrepreneurs, many of whom are Latino, struggle to compete,' she said in an interview a few months ago. 'At the same time, stigma around 'drugs' within some communities discourages talented professionals from entering the industry in the first place.'
'Equity doesn't mean surviving on fumes,' Brito continued. 'It means being given the tools to compete.'
And finally, several operators raised the issue of cultural stigma—a quiet force still keeping some Latinos out of the industry.
'We need more education, outreach, and community conversations to shift how cannabis is viewed; not just as a substance, but as a legitimate business and opportunity for economic empowerment,' Rivera said.
When Equity Falls Short: The CAURD Inc. Rebellion
For many Conditional Adult-Use Retail Dispensary (CAURD) licensees, New York's equity experiment has yielded not opportunity but debt.
'Equity isn't just about who gets the license. It's about what comes next,' said Alex Ortecho, interim president of the Cannabis Association for Unified Retail Development (CAURD Inc.) and owner of Bronx Joint. 'If you don't have the infrastructure to back up your promises—capital, property access, legal protections—then your program isn't equitable, it's just symbolic.'
Formed in 2024 by a cohort of CAURD licensees, CAURD Inc. emerged as a response to widespread frustration with New York's equity rollout, particularly the state-backed DASNY Social Equity Cannabis Investment Fund. Instead of offering the promised low-cost capital and turnkey locations, the program imposed inflated buildout costs, opaque billing and inflexible leases on licensees, according to the group.
'DASNY turned into a cautionary tale—an equity model built without market knowledge, cost controls or community voice,' said Dasheeda Dawson, a spokesperson for CAURD Inc. and the former founding director of Cannabis NYC. 'Instead of lifting licensees, it boxed them in.'
Dawson described how licensees were saddled with over $1 million in buildout costs per store, sometimes for spaces valued far less, and faced rent and fees exceeding $30,000 per month, often without clear justification. 'The state failed to deliver on its promise to incubate businesses,' she said. 'It merely licensed them and left them to sink or swim.'
The group has since outlined a bold recovery agenda: full loan forgiveness for DASNY-tied stores, real technical assistance for justice-involved entrepreneurs, flexible capital access, and a transparent, community-led oversight process. Without such reforms, Dawson warned, 'New York risks permanently damaging the credibility and purpose of its equity-driven framework.'
Why This Matters Now
The presence of Latino-owned dispensaries in New York is a signal. It shows that equity policy, when backed by intention, can work.
'We're not here to be a case study,' Rivera said. 'We're here to build legacies.'
From the bilingual service counters to the locally hired staff, these entrepreneurs are shaping a new kind of cannabis economy. One that reflects the neighborhoods it serves.
'We're not asking for favors,' Brito added. 'We're asking for infrastructure. Equity is a process, not a pitch.'
They aren't just surviving; they're fighting to thrive—sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly, always with purpose.
Their storefronts aren't symbols. They're systems. And if New York can sustain them, it may prove what few other states have: equity doesn't end with a license. It begins with what happens after.
